


Inanimate Doll

by squidlywiddly87



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, RPF - Fandom
Genre: Daddy! Chris Evans, F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, not that kinda daddy ya nastys, okay maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 22:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16049747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidlywiddly87/pseuds/squidlywiddly87
Summary: Reader can’t cook for crap but she decides to cook for her husband Chris and their seven-year-old son.





	Inanimate Doll

I am a very busy lady, to say the least. I’ve been busy most of my life—working through school and the millions of years it’s taken me to become a surgeon. So in all that time, there are some skills I lack like cooking.

The fact I cannot cook agitates me because I like to be good at everything. I have always been this way—from seeing who was fastest at doing chores among my siblings, to swim meets in high school and college. I was a beast in med school and in residency.

Lucky for me, I met my husband in college and he loves to cook. I always wonder why he didn’t become a chef and he says it is because he like words more. He is a professor at our alma mater, Columbia University in New York City. I absolutely adore him; he’s tall and built like a Greek god. His beard is tamed and scratchy; I like the way it feels on my neck when he cuddles me in his sleep. He wears glasses and has all these stupid sweaters I claim to hate but I wear them when he’s away. He’s a good listener and compassionate, traits that I could work on even though my job kinda demands them. He keeps me sane and grounded when work gets too stressful.

Today we both have off which is a miracle and we want to spend every minute together with our little bundle of joy, Ezra. We never really talked about kids when we started our relationship because we both knew I’d be busy and kids work better with two parents available. I didn’t want to raise a child like my father did…

Ezra is seven and it shows. He is very opinionated like me and silly like his father. He loves trains and books and science and loves to ask how things work. I am more than happy to teach him. He has his father’s eyes, though they’re a darker blue, they are gentle and attentive. Ezra has my curly, brown hair and my freckles that are apparent on his nose. They look beautiful on his very tan skin. Today we had a family day which included going to the zoo then going to get ice cream and the beach. I took so many pictures of my boys; my phone memory is almost full.

“Guys guess what?” I ask as we enter our townhouse and into the kitchen. It’s in Greenwich Village, very hipster-like my husband. We remodeled it to our liking, now with three bedrooms plus an office. We might move one day but that depends if we make more babies. I think I want more.

“What momma?” Ezra runs into the kitchen and pulls the big refrigerator door open, getting a juice box.

“I am going to cook tonight!” My son and Chris exchange glances as an awkward silence falls upon the kitchen. I swear I hear crickets. “What? Why are you two looking at me like that?”

“My dear, you don’t cook,” my husband states. He tries to stifle a laugh to which I playfully smack him. “Well, you don’t!”

“Yeah momma, I’ve never eaten food you’ve cooked,” Ezra claims in between sips of his juice.

“Well, you will tonight. It’ll be fun! And if it isn’t good, we can order takeout.”

Okay, cooking is really fucking hard. You’d think I’d have the patience to sit around and wait for the food to do its thing but I don’t. I’ve never felt so much pressure in my life than I have while I cook for my family, which is insane. Absolutely insane to be honest but I get through it! I decide to make something simple—couscous with chicken breasts in grilled asparagus.

“Stop watching me! It’s making me nervous,” I whine from the stove to my husband.

“Okay, okay I’ll stop. It’s just you look cute trying so hard. It’s very endearing,” Chris blows me a kiss as he leaves and I try not to squeal. Thirty minutes later, I’m done and call them back to the kitchen.

“It smells yummy mommy,” little Ezra exclaims as his father lifts him onto a barstool.

“It does, doesn’t it? Hopefully, mommy did a good job,” Chris winks at me before taking the first bite. I cringe as I watch his reaction. He chews slowly and thoughtfully as if he’s some damn judge on Chopped. My son, on the other hand, shows me exactly what he thinks as he spits his food out.

“Ezra!” My husband yells, “Those are not very good manners. This is good babe, I’m proud of you!”

“Well, it tastes like doo-doo or dirt or both.” I am not very emotional but that brings the water to my eyes. Maybe I should switch his school because he’s learned some new attitude I don’t like.

“Ezra honey, don’t say things like that it hurts mommy’s feelings,” I state. “How would you know what doo-doo tastes like anyway?”

“I’m sorry, mommy. It’s not that yummy, I don’t like the chicken.”

“Can you at least take a few bites? I worked very hard to make that then we can order food,” I plead with my son. All this reminds me that I have to try harder.

“I don’t know…” Ezra trails off as he shoves his food away.

“Ez, eat your food.” His father’s voice is stern and final while I try not to cry in front of my son. I can’t remember the last time I cried but it won’t be in front of my son.

“Your inanimate doll won’t consume inedible objects,” Ezra says in his best robot voice. His father looks at him, then back at each other as we try to decide silently if we should laugh or scold him. We opt for the former.

“Can we order takeout now?” Ezra whines as his father and I continue to laugh. “This inanimate doll can’t starve you know.”

“Stop teaching him all these words!” I tell his father as we dump our food in the trash. “And it wasn’t that bad!”

“Nah, It’s fun to see him incorporate them into his vocabulary. Plus it’s cute and no, you actually did a good job! The couscous was a little overdone but I think you cooked beautifully, sweetheart.” Chris smiles at me and my heart melts. Ten years together and he still makes me weak.

“I can’t stand you two,” I say shaking my head as I sit back down in my chair and search for our favorite Thai food restaurant’s number in my phone.

“Yes, you can!” The two shout as they shower me with hugs and kisses. I guess you can have it all, even if you’re a shit cook like me.


End file.
